Chapter 54: Testing the Waters

Shen Minglei was dressed in a long robe of crescent white, embroidered with slender bamboo in blue silk. Around his waist was a broad sash of azure brocade with cloud patterns, and his jet-black hair was gathered under a small jade-inlaid coronet. There was no denying that he had inherited Shen Zhifeng’s fine features and Lady Yue's gentle grace; his entire bearing was that of a refined, elegant young man, as pure and striking as a tree in the wind.

When it came time to introduce him, Lin Xueying only gave a brief mention: “This is Shen Minglei, a fellow student at my brother Linyang’s academy,” she said, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Shen Qingyun, however, spoke with curiosity, “So you’re of our clan. May I ask, what do your parents do?”

Shen Minglei replied with a calm smile, “Both my parents are officials in Yangzhou, nothing of consequence. I came to the academy for my studies alone, and often receive much care from Brother Lin. I’ve heard that at the Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet, Miss Shen’s qin performance was unparalleled. I wonder when I might have the honor of hearing it for myself.”

He was, of course, unaware that Shen Qingyun had already uncovered much about him. Yangzhou was far away; few would trouble themselves to investigate the details, and Shen Zhifeng had likely already paved the way for his son.

Shen Qingyun, ever perceptive, noticed that though Shen Minglei’s expression was mild and unruffled, his hand tightened unconsciously around his teacup. She smiled faintly, “You flatter me, Young Master Shen.”

Lin Xueying had not interacted much with Shen Minglei before—only glimpsed him occasionally when her brother brought him as a guest. Judging by his appearance and manner, she had thought him a scion of some grand family, but now suspected he was of modest origins. The eager look in her eyes grew cool.

Linyang, sensing the subtle shift in the group’s attitude toward Shen Minglei, quickly spoke up, “You are too modest, Brother Shen. Your talent is admired by all our teachers at the academy. When the autumn exams arrive, you are sure to make the honor roll.”

Yuda Academy sought to gather talent from all corners, caring not for background, only learning. Any who passed the examination could study in the capital. Most graduates of Yuda Academy entered officialdom; thus, gaining admission was already a promise of future glory.

The two concubine-born daughters of the Minister’s household now looked at Shen Minglei with renewed interest, even finding opportunities to exchange a few words with him.

No matter who he spoke with, Shen Minglei remained patient, humble, and courteous, winning the admiration of many present. When someone jested about marriage prospects, he, seeing Shen Qingyun’s silence, took the initiative, “I have long heard that Lord Shen and Lady Shen are a model couple, admired by all. Truly enviable.”

So, he could not help himself after all.

The others, unaware of Shen Minglei’s true identity, took his words as genuine praise and readily concurred. Only Shen Qingyun understood the veiled mockery. She felt a quiet relief—so this was the extent of his cunning, not so inscrutable after all.

Shen Qingyun lowered her head with a bashful smile, her eyes shining with enchanting light, drawing the attention of several men in the room.

Lin Xueying had two older brothers. The elder, Lin Zhiyuan, was tall and slender, dressed in a long robe embroidered with green patterns and a white silk outer coat. His black hair was neatly arranged in a topknot, secured with a white jade coronet from which hung slender ribbons.

He was elegant enough, yet his gaze upon Shen Qingyun was filled with covetousness.

Lin Xueying, seeing her brother’s expression, sighed quietly to herself. Her eldest brother was ever fond of beautiful women. But recalling the withered appearance of her sister-in-law, she discreetly led Shen Qingyun aside to admire the scenery, away from Lin Zhiyuan’s eyes.

Shen Qingyun noticed as well, and her opinion of Lin Xueying improved.

At that moment, a small boy came running down the path.

He was three or four years old, with large, brilliant black eyes brimming with curiosity. His cheeks were round and chubby, his little belly plump, and he still held an unfinished pastry in his hand—utterly endearing.

His nursemaid hurried after him, breathless. “Young Master, slow down, slow down! You’ll fall and hurt yourself.”

Lin Xueying squatted down with a smile, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “Yu’er, what brings you here?”

Yu’er shyly ducked behind his nursemaid, but his bright eyes were fixed upon Shen Qingyun, this beautiful and unfamiliar young lady.

Lin Xueying turned to Shen Qingyun and explained, “Qingyun, this is my eldest brother’s son, little Yu. He’s nearly four now, always mischievous and fond of sweets.”

Then she turned to urge the boy, “Come, greet Sister Qingyun.”

Yu’er blinked his big eyes and piped up in a babyish voice, “Hello, sister,” melting her heart a little.

The nursemaid tried to lead the young master away, but Yu’er darted behind Shen Qingyun, his chubby hand clutching her sleeve, refusing to leave.

Just then, the others seemed to have rested enough—some proposed climbing to the island’s peak, others to stroll by the lakeshore.

Lin Zhiyuan came to ask Lin Xueying and Shen Qingyun where they wished to go. Seeing Yu’er, he frowned and said sternly to the nursemaid, “Take Young Master back at once. He’ll dirty Miss Qingyun’s sleeve.”

Yu’er, frightened by his father’s sternness, only gripped Shen Qingyun’s sleeve more tightly.

Shen Qingyun gently took Yu’er’s hand. “Why don’t I take him back for you? I’m rather fond of little Yu.”

Lin Xueying, noticing her brother’s heated gaze, smiled and agreed, “I’ll trouble you then, Qingyun. It’s not far, and I’ll have a maid go with you and bring you back.”

Lin Zhiyuan, hearing that Shen Qingyun was leaving, looked both disappointed and dissatisfied. “Qingyun is our guest, how can she…”

Shen Qingyun smiled. “It’s no trouble.”

Yu’er, holding her hand, followed obediently this time.

Lin Zhiyuan watched Shen Qingyun's retreating figure, unable to tear his eyes away, his heart restless as though scratched by a cat. What a beauty—if only he could get close, say a few words, perhaps steal a kiss. Watching his son holding Shen Qingyun’s hand, he felt a pang of jealousy—his own child had gotten closer to her than he had. Those hands must be so soft.

Sensing the gaze on her back, Shen Qingyun quickened her pace without looking back.

She led Yu’er to Liu’s courtyard, Lin Zhiyuan’s wife. The place was quiet, the air tinged with the bitterness of medicinal herbs. The silence felt lonely, but the flowers in the courtyard were well cared for and blooming profusely.

Yu’er scampered in on his short legs and dove into Liu’s arms, calling softly, “Mother.”

Since she was already there, Shen Qingyun entered to pay her respects. Upon stepping into the inner room, she froze.

Liu’s complexion was sallow, her eyes clouded, and her gown could not conceal her thinness. When she reached to hold little Yu, her sleeves seemed empty for want of flesh. She could not stop coughing—she looked as though she had been ill for a long time.

It was all too much like her former self.